


absence of light

by zenyattas



Series: beset by wickedness [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Human Tekhartha Mondatta, Human Zenyatta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-02-07 10:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12839088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenyattas/pseuds/zenyattas
Summary: brothers cope, more or less, with loss.





	1. pressed flower

**Author's Note:**

> "if darkness is really not darkness at all, but rather, the absence of light, then my flaws are not really flaws at all, but rather, the absence of you." -- christopher poindexter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mondatta reflects on one of his favorite memories from zenyatta's childhood.

on mondatta's desk sits a pressed flower, something zenyatta had brought to him as a child. he had run into the monastery, toothy grin, his unofficial jieba smeared over his forehead muddled with dirt, brimming with excitement over the bloom within his small palms. "brother, look!" on the tips of his toes to reach mondatta's height. "zen, where did you find this? it is beautiful." his own hand would reach out to take the flower gently, gaze falling upon it in wonder. it was rare to see a flower so beautiful so high up the mountain. "in the village. i was playing hide & seek with the others when i saw it! i knew you would love it!" his smile only grows, expression bright & childish. 

mondatta smiles back, softly, kneeling down to zenyatta's height. "thank you, little brother. i will press this so that we can keep it forever." 

& the way zenyatta did his happy little dance, how warm & joyful he seemed over something so small & meaningless, would forever remain one of mondatta's most cherished memories. 

the flower remains there, in the spot it always had, next to a framed photo a traveler had so kindly gifted them for hosting her during her trip. he reaches out toward it, a fond smile blossoming across cheeks at the memory; ingrained in his mind it would always be.

zenyatta's departure from the monastery had left him in silent shambles for days. it had been nearly a week since they had said goodbye; as he lifts the flower between his palms, icy eyes lingering on the petals that were still so vibrant after all these years, he can't help but allow the tears he had held back finally spill over. 

each day he hoped to see his little brother come bounding through the doorway, calling his name with a smile like he always had, telling him about some new butterfly he spotted or a new species of flower he'd learned of. maybe.

mondatta knew he wouldn't. not after all they had said to one another & the way zenyatta seemed so determined to follow his own path. 

they had their fair share of arguments & disagreements. but at the end of the day, once they had taken their respective time to think over it, zenyatta would come to mondatta's quarters offering an apology & a kettle of tea, & they would embrace & cry & laugh over how silly it was & it would all be well again. 

but mondatta knew that his brother, the perfect picture of a shambali monk, had started to grow restless between the walls of the monastery that he'd known his whole life. as he'd grown, he would leave to spend time in the village more often, getting to know what it was that he desired from his life; it came as no suprise when zenyatta finally parted ways with the quiet life the nepal monastery offered him. he was young, full of curiosity & adventure, seeking to do good & vanquish the evil in the world. who was mondatta to stop him?

so no, he wouldn't come home. but maybe, just maybe, someday he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first chapter of the fic, completed. will you guys let me know if my writing style bothers you? as in, how i write in all lowercase. it's just easier for me to write that way, but if it's a big enough issue for anyone, please let me know! also, always open to constructive criticism unless it's rude or insulting. 
> 
> my characterization of mondatta & zenyatta are based on over a year's worth of world building, so if there's something you don't understand, feel free to ask. 
> 
> thank you! ❤ - zen.


	2. mourn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zenyatta finally allows himself to mourn.

there is something empty in the room's silence. typically, it was not so offputting -- quiet gives birth to tranquility, perfect conditions for meditation. but in this moment, he is beset by a distinct feeling of dread; he lacks his student's companionship, not for the first time, & yet finds that knowledge all the more lonely. 

a hand once idle raises to his jieba, trailing along the dots to seek comfort. eyes close, breathing steadies, & he feels the distinct prickle of sorrow pierce his lungs in the same manner it had when he heard the news of mondatta. his brother, his only family, the only person alive who understood him better than he understood himself. murdered, in cold blood, & for what? political maneuvering? 

no, he thinks to himself, i cannot allow anger to cloud my judgement. with great affort he focuses himself, a steady balance, as his orbs again rotate around his shoulders. the melody is almost chaotic, lacking tone & rhythm due to the torrent of emotions threatening to drown him.

he missed him. there had never been a proper moment in all the madness of the fight to stop & think about what had happened. & if zenyatta were being truthful to himself, he had never allowed himself the opportunity to mourn in the moments between. genji, is his gentle yet unsubtle way, had attempted to make conversation of it during times of sentiment, but was always eluded -- whether it be by zenyatta stating his own history was not as important as genji's or him suddenly fretting over a kettle of tea that never existed. for everything zenyatta could do, he never valued himself enough to deal with his own trauma.

he remembers being small & smearing mondatta's jieba all over his face, simply because the contrast of colors was fun to look at. they were innocent times, times of happiness & undisturbed joy, free from the cold cage of war & famine & poverty. as zenyatta grew older, the serene guidance of his older brother remained a constant even as they began to bicker & move along separate paths. even as zenyatta became a young man with his own dreams & ideals, faced with his own challenges, mondatta was there for him. & in all his soul searching, zenyatta left him behind.

he remembers the hurt. leaving the monastery was not easy for him, & allowing him to go was not easy for mondatta. but they both knew it was the next step, the only way zenyatta could settle the discord lingering in his heart; they parted for the last time without ever knowing. 

& now, he sits alone in an empty room to meditate. he thought it would bring him peace -- but it only strikes deep in his chest, fragments of glass in his heart, creating doubt in religion. severing him from his steadfast faith. how could the iris allow one of its most devoted acolytes die so easily? 

he knows such thoughts are foolish. the iris allowed nothing to happen without purpose. but the young man cannot deny the emptiness that creeps, the silence, the loneliness that would undoubtedly be suspended in the air at the monastery. 

for the first time in many years, zenyatta finds himself in tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while, but this chapter has been a work in progress for a while. i had lots of ideas for this chapter so it took me some time to figure out exactly what i wanted to write. hope you enjoyed! - zen.


End file.
